


The Work of Giants Crumbled

by ShirleyAnn66



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Butchering history documentaries for shits and giggles, F/M, Modern AU mixed with Canon Compliant, Mostly Book!Canon but with echoes of Show!Canon, Sections in transcript style or in screenplay/script style, This is a weird one, non-linear storytelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyAnn66/pseuds/ShirleyAnn66
Summary: "We’ve spent the last eight weeks watching our guests, Jaime Lannister and Dr. Brienne Tarth, guide an amateur team of historians and archaeologists through an exploration of our most important historical sites, and have managed to make it both entertaining and educational...Winterfell Risinghas captured the imagination of the entire country, not only because of the discoveries made practically in front of our eyes, but because of the way it was presented on screen.  In tonight’s very special episode, we’re going to delve deep into the show, beg our guests to reveal behind-the-scene secrets and hear how it felt to make some of the most important historical discoveries of the century!  Stay with us!"
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 58
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N1:** Title is one translation of a line from the Old English poem, “The Ruin”, written in the 8th or 9th century and published in the 10th century in _The Exeter Book_. I stumbled across this phrase and the poem while watching the Fall of Civilizations YouTube channel, where it’s [ the title of one of his videos. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glKe9njOB24&t=1s) Yes, my life is a thrill a minute, I know.
> 
>  **A/N2:** Inspired by _Time Team_ and by watching WAY too many historical documentaries. Send help.

_But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity...Herostratus lives that burnt the Temple of Diana, he is almost lost that built it...Who knows whether the best of men be known? Or whether there be not more remarkable persons forgot, than any that stand remembred [sic] in the known account of time?_ \- Sir Thomas Browne, _Hydriotaphia_ , 1658

 _Vorlons said, “understanding is a three-edged sword”: your side, their side, and the truth!_ \- Captain John Sheridan, _Babylon 5_

*/*/*/*/*

**Before Yesterday - Evenfall Hall**

**Jaime**

“It seems to be dying.”

Jaime gladly tears his gaze from the western horizon to instead look at Brienne, a much more pleasing sight. “You said that yesterday as well.”

Brienne slides him a glance from the corner of her remarkable eyes, her too-plump lips quirking at the corners, tugging at the scars left by Biter’s teeth, even as her knuckles turn white where she’s gripping the edge of the rampart. She says, “I will likely say it on the morrow as well, if the last months are to be believed.”

Jaime’s smile is only slightly broader than hers and he’s almost surprised at his genuine amusement. It’s been so long since he’s been amused by anything, Winterfell always _there_ , a smoky shadow standing between him and his fellow survivors, between him and Brienne. Yet now her smile deepens, their gazes cling, and for a moment…he hopes—

“Any change?”

Both Jaime and Brienne turn towards Tyrion as he comes to a halt between them. He barely spares them a glance, instead peering intently across the Straits of Tarth towards the mainland.

Jaime glances again at Brienne, but she’s already turned away, looking now at the orange glow in the west. Jaime does the same and says, “Brienne thinks it’s dying.”

“You said that yesterday as well,” Tyrion says absently, but gives her no chance to respond. “How much longer can it burn?”

Jaime sighs, grasping the edge of the rampart. “You asked _that_ yesterday, and the day before.”

“I fear my wit has burned along with our home.”

Jaime cannot think of anything to say to that and they stand in silence, watching the dancing glow in the distance.

“The fire was created with magic,” Brienne finally says, “then fed by dragon and wildfire. There is no way to know how long it will burn or what will be left when it finally dies.”

“ _If_ it dies,” Tyrion says.

They stand in heavy silence until Jaime says, “At least we made it to Tarth.”

“And _you_ said _that_ yesterday,” Tyrion says, his voice dry. “I fear for the sanity of us all if we are so soon beggared for conversation.”

“We will have much to discuss tonight,” Brienne says. “Food is the most urgent of our concerns.” She nods towards the burning coast. “We won’t receive any assistance from that direction.”

“Essos was left burning as we sailed to Westeros,” Tyrion says, carefully neutral. “They will be hard-pressed to feed themselves let alone have anything to spare for us.”

“Dorne?” Jaime says.

Tyrion shakes his head. “Burnt as well. The Dragon Queen did not believe in leaving enemies behind her.”

 _The Dragon Queen?_ Jaime thinks. _Or you?_ He remembers Winterfell and King’s Landing and all the places between and keeps his questions behind his teeth.

Brienne says, “The Summer Isles may be untouched and able to help, if we can reach them. But our ships need repairing before we could make such a journey. Thanks to the Dragon King and his Golden Company ravaging the Stormlands and the Stepstones, we may not have enough ready materials amongst our islands to repair our fishing boats let alone a ship we then need to risk on a journey south to beg for aid.” For the first time in this conversation, Jaime hears true rage in her voice. “We have reached Tarth and some small measure of safety but we still have far to go before we can rest.”

Jaime’s heart sinks. He knows he should be more concerned with their ragged survivors scattered in their even more ragged camps sprawled around Evenfall Hall. Those survivors are looking to _them_ for guidance and leadership, and while he worries for their future, he finds that now there may actually _be_ a future, mayhaps, he can hope—

“What will they think of us?” Tyrion whispers.

Jaime looks down at his brother and frowns. “Who?”

Tyrion nods his head towards the mainland. “Assuming we live long enough for our children’s children to ask what happened...what will they think of all we have done? What will they think of the world we’ve left behind?”

Jaime slides another glance at Brienne. _Children’s children_ , he thinks, and doesn’t know if he’s mourning or yearning.

“I think they’ll be grateful there’s a world at all,” Brienne says. “I think they will thank us.”

Tyrion’s smile is humorless but he doesn’t turn to look at her. “I doubt they will thank _me_ , my lady. I can only pray they will not even remember my name.”

Jaime nods. “As do I.” He turns back to watch the orange glow, his face grim. “As do I.”

*/*/*/*/*

**Today - King's Landing**

**The Late, Late Show**

Nimble Dick: Welcome to the _It’s Later than You Think, You Should Be in Bed Show_ , I’m your host, Nimble Dick Crabb!

<wild cheering from audience>

Nimble Dick <laughing>: No, no, no, of course we’re the Late, Late Show and hopefully our guests tonight won’t make you wish you were asleep! Given the unexpected success of their television series, I somehow doubt it. Tonight, we have a very special episode, dedicated to, of all things, ancient history! Yes, that’s right: the hosts of _Winterfell Rising_ are here!

<even wilder cheering from the audience>

Nimble Dick: Glad to see my staff managed to stack the audience with all my geeky historian friends!

<laughter>

Nimble Dick: We’ve spent the last eight weeks watching our guests, Jaime Lannister and Dr. Brienne Tarth, guide an amateur team of historians and archaeologists through an exploration of our most important historical sites, and have managed to make it both entertaining and educational—no easy feat when it comes to history and the current attention span of our audiences. <turns to the camera, stage right> This is the Late, Late Show. I’m Nimble Dick Crabb. _Do_ try to keep up.

<laughter>

Nimble Dick <turns back to camera in front of him>: _Winterfell Rising_ has captured the imagination of the entire country, not only because of the discoveries made practically in front of our eyes, but because of the way it was presented on screen. In tonight’s very special episode, we’re going to delve deep into the show, beg our guests to reveal behind-the-scene secrets and hear how it felt to make some of the most important historical discoveries of the century! Stay with us!

<commercial>

Nimble Dick: Welcome back to the Late Late Show! You’ve watched our first and only guests tonight every Wednesday for the last eight weeks, following their antics as they searched for historical artifacts, performed experimental archaeology, and made some history of their own, all while arguing their way from the Isle of Tarth to the barren wastelands of the North and back again. Please welcome Dr. Brienne Tarth and Jaime Lannister!

<wild cheering and applause from the audience as Jaime and Brienne walk out into the studio. Jaime smiles and waves while Brienne, her face beet red even beneath the heavily caked makeup, awkwardly nods as she tries to hurry Jaime to the couch across from Nimble Dick. Jaime squeezes her hand, causing the audience to cheer even more loudly, before Nimble Dick reaches them, shakes their hands and escorts them to the couch. They settle in as the applause gradually fades.>

Nimble Dick <chuckling>: Did you ever expect a welcome like that?

<The audience laughs as Brienne and Jaime exchange glances.>

Brienne: No.

Jaime <grins at Brienne>: No. Feels natural, though.

Brienne <rolls her eyes>: It would.

<audience laughs>

Nimble Dick: There’s the banter we’ve all grown to know and love!

<audience applause and laughter>

Nimble Dick: Let’s start at the beginning. Did you know each other before working together on the show?

Jaime: We never met in person, however, Brienne is quite a famous name in academic circles.

Nimble Dick: While you’re famous to the general public.

Brienne: More like infamous.

<audience laughs>

Nimble Dick: So which one of you was approached first about the show?

<Brienne and Jaime exchange a glance.>

Brienne: I believe we were approached around the same time.

Nimble Dick: You must have leapt at the chance!

<Brienne and Jaime exchange another glance...>

*/*/*/*/*

**Yesterday – King’s Landing**

**Brienne**

“No.”

“Why not?”

Brienne glares at her companion and wonders why she ever agreed to Catelyn’s request to take this meeting with Bronn Blackwater, Lord Stokeworth, the most mercenary-minded man it’s ever been her misfortune to meet.

“Because it’s a ridiculous idea!”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to betray your liege lord or something,” Bronn scoffs. “It’s a harmless TV show about our history. You’re an historian! I thought you’d leap at the chance to be a part of this!”

“It’s not harmless, Bronn! It’s a ridiculous reality show and I despise those with every fibre of my being! And the people who would be involved aren’t historians or archaeologists or—or anything, really, other than children of rich parents!”

Bronn shrugs. “Makes sense. Tyrion Lannister is paying for it, after all.”

Tyrion Lannister, Brienne thinks, best known not just for his family’s wealth, power, and privilege, nor just for being the driving force behind the series _Play for Power_ , an overly pretentious, pseudo-intellectual take on the immediate aftermath of the Great Burning that is the Show of the Moment. No, he’s most well-known for his absolutely obsessive fascination with Westeros’ ancient history...and for being the brother of the man who made his mark by playing one of, if not _the_ most, notorious figures in history on television. _That_ series had been such a cultural phenomenon, it spawned a dozen off-shoots, including _Play for Power_ , while Jaime Lannister hasn’t been able to get another role since, not even on his own brother’s show.

Brienne says, “I’d feel better about Tyrion’s involvement if he would stop pretending _that show_ is even remotely historically accurate.”

Bronn laughs. “It’s entertainment, Brienne! Liberties sometimes need to be taken.”

Brienne rolls her eyes. “Dragons,” she scoffs. “Magic. And don’t get me started on the nudity.”

“The magic is a bit much, I agree, but tits and dragons equals eyes glued to the screen.”

“If _that’s_ what they want, then I definitely don’t know what they want with me.”

“You’re one of the best-known names in the field, Brienne, and your academic specialty is on the events leading up to the Great Burning. Metaphorically speaking, you know where all the bodies are buried.”

“Literally, too,” Brienne mutters.

Bronn grins. “Why wouldn’t they want you? If it makes you feel better, they may be hunting dragons—the human kind—but there’s no intention to show tits of any kind. Well, unless they’re on statues or it’ll help get ratings.”

Brienne rolls her eyes again, even harder. “Nothing says ‘history’ more than gratuitous female nudity. No.”

Bronn’s grin turns practically feral and Brienne braces herself for his next blow against her defenses.

“Tyrion wants you to find Winterfell.”

*/*/*/*/*

**Yesterday - King’s Landing**

**Jaime**

“No.”

“Why not?”

Jaime gives Tyrion a speaking look. “You know perfectly well why not.”

Tyrion shakes his head as he strolls to the bar. He steps up on the riser to reach the bottle of Braavos whiskey on top of it and takes out two glasses from the shelves below it. “You’re the one who chose to retire, Jaime. You still have legions of fans if the eardrum bursting levels of screaming whenever you deign to appear in public is anything to go by.”

“I had one role,” Jaime says, his voice dry.

“You shouldn’t have played the villain so well, then.”

“Who knew the asshole had so many fans?”

“Who knew the asshole had so many fans who would stick with him, even after his glorious downfall?”

“That, too.”

“Still, it’s been over and done for years now.”

Jaime snorts. “Tell that to Cawfeed. They seem to run a story at least once a week. Someone really should tell _them_ to get over it already.”

“Those stories get clicks!”

“It was just a TV show!”

Tyrion shakes his head as he finishes pouring their drinks. “Right. Keep telling yourself that.” He offers Jaime one of the glasses. “Like it or not, that show was a cultural phenomenon. Without it, _Play for Power_ wouldn’t be nearly as successful as it is, even with tits and dragons.”

Jaime warily takes the drink from Tyrion’s hand. “That has very little to do with me. Seriously, Tyrion. What’s this all about?”

“This new series of mine will hopefully prove everything we talk about in _Play for Power_ really happened.”

“Magic?” Jaime scoffs. “Dragons? And the less said about the nudity the better! But what’s the point? This new show you’re proposing isn’t even real history. It’s just a bunch of young rich kids scrambling around in the dirt with everything that happens being described by an old rich kid. Why don’t _you_ host the bloody thing?”

Tyrion’s smile is bitter as he gestures at himself. “You know very well why. Oh, I’m fine when seen on the red carpet beside the stars of my show, or with you, but no one will put this ugly mug on television, no matter how much money I throw at them. Can’t blame them. People want to look at beautiful people, even if all that person is doing is hosting a documentary series.”

Jaime’s heart clenches and for a moment red rage blurs his vision. “Who have you talked to? I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You can’t save me all the time, Jaime.” Tyrion takes a gulp of his drink then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to host anyway.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious! Your elder-statesman-like presence will nicely counterbalance the young rich kids scrambling around in the dirt.”

Jaime takes a sip of the whiskey, makes an appreciative noise, then says, “Bullshit. What’s the real reason?”

Tyrion’s shrug is rueful as he lifts his glass in salute. “I can’t get anything past you, can I? Fine. If I can’t have tits and dragons to lure viewers, I can at least have the Kingslayer.”

*/*/*/*/*

**Today - King's Landing**

**The Late, Late Show**

Nimble Dick: You must have leapt at the chance!

<Brienne and Jaime exchange another glance.>

Jaime: Oh, absolutely. I know I was extremely excited with the idea! Weren’t you, Brienne?

Brienne: ...thrilled.

*/*/*/*/*


	2. Chapter 2

**Today – King’s Landing**

**The Late Late Show**

Nimble Dick: Tell us about the premise of the show.

Brienne: Well, the premise of the show was to visit several of the most important historical sites from around the time of the Great Burning, beginning with Evenfall Hall and ending in the North.

Nimble Dick: Where Winterfell might be located?

Brienne: We’ve always known Winterfell—if it truly existed—was in the North, but exactly _where_ is the question. The landmarks and locations mentioned in what few contemporaneous records remain were either destroyed completely in the Great Burning or hidden beneath the aftermath of that event. The various rebellions and wars we’ve endured over the last five thousand years haven’t helped, either.

Nimble Dick: Why start at Evenfall Hall? Isn’t that where the survivors of the Great Burning ended? Why start at the end?

Jaime: As far as we can tell from the historical record, the survivors did escape to Tarth and were able to survive there. The Evenstar and her consort, the Golden Hand—

Brienne: We don’t know if the Golden Hand was her consort or not.

Jaime <turns to Brienne>: We don’t know he wasn’t.

Brienne: There’s no record anywhere that the Evenstar even married.

Jaime: There is evidence she had at least one child, the Evenstar who came after her.

Brienne: But there’s no record of the father or even if she gave birth to the child. There were a number of orphans among the survivors. She could have just as easily adopted one of those children and made him her heir.

<Jaime opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by Nimble Dick and the audience’s laughter.>

Nimble Dick <to the audience>: Apparently, what we saw on screen was not staged!

<Brienne and Jaime exchange puzzled frowns.>

Jaime/Brienne: Staged?

<audience laughter>

Nimble Dick: We’ll talk more about the cast and your interactions later. Right now, we’re more interested in the history, am I right, audience?

<mixture of boos, catcalls, cheers, applause>

<Brienne blushes, Jaime laughs. Brienne glares at him while he grins at her.>

Nimble Dick: So, back to the history...even after all the time you’ve worked together, you still haven’t come to an agreement on these questions?

Jaime: Brienne and I have only known each other for what? Not quite two years now. Historians have been arguing about the details ever since the destruction of the Citadel in 1256, during the Fourth Ironborn Rebellion.

Brienne: Longer, I’m sure. Probably since the fires of the Great Burning went out and the survivors returned to the mainland from Tarth, under the banner of the Queen in the North.

Jaime: A North that no longer existed.

Brienne: Nothing existed anymore, if the histories are to be believed.

Jaime: Nothing except Evenfall Hall, the Queen and her court, and the Evenstar and her Golden Hand, who saved them all from the Kingslayer and his Beauty.

Nimble Dick: We love the songs as much as anybody, however, for the benefit of our viewers at home, who aren’t learned historians like our audience, mayhaps now would be the best time to explain the Great Burning.

Brienne <shifts in her seat, getting visibly more animated>: Well, of course, we all _know_ about the Great Burning. We live in a world that still shows its scars, five thousand years later.

Jaime: And, of course, nothing illustrates ‘the Great Burning’ more than the North itself.

Brienne <nodding>: Absolutely. While the cause of the Great Burning is still hotly debated—

<Jaime, Nimble Dick, and the audience laugh.>

Brienne <pauses, then realizes what she said. She smiles, chuckles, and Jaime’s own smile widens as he watches her. He leans closer, eyes intent on her.>: Pun most definitely not intended. As I was saying, while the cause is still unknown, there is no doubt about where it began: in the North.

Jaime: And that the Kingslayer and his Beauty started it.

Brienne <rolls her eyes>: Or a meteor.

Jaime: Or the Beauty and her Kingslayer.

Brienne: Or a volcano.

Jaime: Or dragons. Controlled by the Dragon Queen and guided by the Kingslayer and the Beauty.

Brienne <glaring...>

*/*/*/*/*

**Before Yesterday - Winterfell**

**Jaime**

Bran sits, wrapped in fur blankets and dreaming beneath the weirwood tree in the godswood. Tendrils of steam rise from the hot pool at the edge of his chair. Bran’s eyes are blank, seeing nothing, and Jaime wonders if he has been summoned here as a Stark prank.

Jaime stands and waits. This is not the first time he’s met with Bran, the child he once pushed from a tower because he had seen too much. Now the boy sees much and more, and while his body may be grounded, his mind flies. Even so, Jaime has seldom sought him out since his arrival in Winterfell. He made his confessions to the Stark children his first night here, after a long and arduous journey with his army at his back and his heart in his hands. To Jaime’s shock, it was Bran who spoke and convinced the rest to spare his life. Jaime sought him out the next day, here in this very spot, to face his sins, to give the boy an opportunity to share his true feelings when it was naught but the two of them and Bran did not have to act as Lord of a Great House navigating his way between the c onflicting needs of the King in the North and the Dragon Queen while facing the never-ending threat of the Others. Bran said little, however, and gave him neither forgiveness nor condemnation. Still, the boy listens to him during their councils of war as earnestly as he listens to any of the other Lord Commanders or to the King and the Queen.

This is the first time, however, Bran has _requested_ Jaime attend him in the godswood, in front of the weirwood tree.

Jaime lets the silence of the decimated sacred ground settle over him like a cloak, the white of the freshly fallen snow reminding him of the Kingsguard, which in turn reminds him of Aerys, of Cersei, of all he has done, including to the boy in front of him.

“I once dreamed of being a knight.”

The boy’s soft voice shatters the silence, the shards of it glittering crystals suspended in the crisp air of the godswood.

Jaime returns his gaze to Bran, who is looking not at him but at the steaming pool at their feet.

Jaime finally says, “Being a knight is not all it seems in songs.”

“I know that now.” Bran turns his gaze on Jaime and for once, he seems _here_ , as if he’s seeing only Jaime and not something... _other_. “You have done many things, Kingslayer, for both good and ill.”

“Aye,” Jaime says, “I have.”

“Are you shamed? Or proud?”

“Both. Any knight who would tell you different is a liar.”

“So many vows, they make you swear and swear...”

Jaime’s eyes widen, although he does not know why he is surprised that Bran the Seer would also see that moment in the cell with Catelyn Stark. Mayhaps it’s because Jaime’s been in Winterfell for centuries now, it feels, and Bran has never before asked him about something that happened so long before Jaime’s return to the North.

“Yes,” Jaime finally says. “Why do I feel I am about to be asked to swear even more?”

“Winterfell is falling.”

Jaime considers his words but the boy can see the past and, the whispers say, the future. There is no point in lying. “Yes.”

“You must convince my siblings to let go of our home and go south.”

“With the Others nipping all around us? We can at least repel them for a time from behind these castle walls.”

“But not defeat them.”

“...no.” It is nothing Jaime has not said before, after all, to Sansa, the Hand of the King in the North, or to Tyrion, the Hand of the Dragon Queen. Or directly to Jon and Daenerys themselves, or to Brienne and the other Lord Commanders, in private and in councils of war.

No one, it seems, other than Brienne, wish to hear him.

Bran says, “The best you can hope for is to die with a sword in your hand.”

“Gods willing.”

“Do you not wish to live?”

Jaime’s hand tightens on his sword belt, his mind flicking to his children, to Brienne, to what-might-have-been in a world without the Others, in a world without Cersei. “Of course, Lord Stark. Why have you called me here?”

“When the flames die, so must you.”

Jaime’s eyes widen.

“Do you not wish to live and spend your days making your lady happy?”

Jaime swallows, his throat suddenly tight. “She is not my lady,” he says. Nor does she show any signs she wants to be, he thinks. Brienne’s walls have grown ever thicker and now, he finds, she avoids his eyes whenever they are in a room together.

“Yet you do not ask me which lady I mean.”

Jaime flushes, and pushes down his irritation. “You are Bran the Seer. There is no point in lying.”

Bran tilts his head in agreement. “So I will ask you again, Kingslayer: do you not wish to live and spend your days making your lady happy?”

“And I will say again: she is not my lady.”

“Does it matter?”

“...no.”

“Do you not wish to live, Ser Jaime?”

“Of course, Lord Stark,” Jaime snaps, angry now and afraid. “Why have you called me here?”

“You once pushed a boy from a tower to save the woman you loved and the children you had by her. You once jumped into a bear pit without a weapon and minus a sword hand in order to save another woman you grew to love although you did not know it then. You sacrificed your birthright, you went to war for your brother, you turned your back on vows made to a king to save a city. All for love.”

“I once hunted for your sister with murder in my heart. I once threatened to trebuchet your uncle’s newborn child if he did not surrender. I fought the revenant of your mother, breaking my oath to never again take up arms against a Tully or a Stark. I left the woman I grew to love at the mercy of men who had none, and I set upon your father and his men in retribution when your mother stole my brother. I am a kingslayer, an oathbreaker, a man with shit for honor. I do not understand your point.”

“Out of everyone here, you are the one most willing to do what must be done when faced with an impossible decision.”

Jaime laughs, thinking of Brienne, of Lady Stoneheart and the choice she was forced to make to save Pod and Hyle Hunt. “Am I? I think all have done the same, at one time or another.”

Bran’s mouth curves slightly upwards. “Not all would have pushed a boy from a tower to save the ones they loved.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow. “Not all have been in a situation where such a decision needed to be made.” He pauses, frowning. “For what it’s worth, and I know it is worth very little, I do regret what I did that day. Cersei said later that—”

“I was only seven and you could have frightened me into silence.”

Jaime blinks. “There are things you should not see,” he says.

“I am a boy no longer and any who would care about your treasons are long dead.”

“Man or boy, some things should belong only to the people involved.” Jaime thinks of Brienne and yearns for what he does not deserve. “Out of respect for the lady if nothing else.”

The curve of Bran’s lips deepens, becomes almost a smile. “I will hold your secrets, Kingslayer, and the lady’s as well.”

Child or no, a cripple at his hands or no, Jaime is losing patience. “Why have you called me here? To praise me or condemn me?”

“Neither. To win your support.”

Jaime frowns. “My support? I have no influence with the King and Queen.”

“You have influence with their Hands, even if one is my sister. You must convince them—convince them all—that Winterfell cannot be saved. They must desert the castle.”

“And do what?”

“You know what they must do. You’ve known since you arrived here but you feared none would listen.”

“None did listen.”

“They heard. They are afraid to act.”

“I doubt they will appreciate me calling them craven.”

“They are not afraid because they are craven. This is their home. They are the Starks of Winterfell, the Kings in the North. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, but Winterfell cannot stand and to try is to die along with it.”

Jaime feels a chill shimmer down his spine that is not caused by the cold air. “Have you told them this?”

“Of course. They think I am still the child they knew, even when I shock them with what I see. They will not listen for they do not wish to hear. I cannot blame them. When we were scattered to the winds, all we wanted was to return to each other and home. Now we are together and here, we are loathe to leave once more. But leave they must.”

Jaime is torn. He cannot argue against Bran’s words for they are only what he and Brienne have known for some time. The chill runs down his spine once again. “What would you have of me?”

“You needs must convince them to take the smallfolk and flee south.”

“To King’s Landing.”

Bran nods. “And the fire hidden in her belly. It is your last hope.”

“And what of the Others? The dragons can keep them at bay for only so long.”

“Winterfell will provide protection but not victory.”

Jaime frowns.

Bran smiles.

“King’s Landing is not the only place with a fire in its belly.”

*/*/*/*/*

**Today - King's Landing**

**The Late Late Show**

Jaime: Or dragons. Controlled by the Dragon Queen but supported by the Kingslayer and the Beauty.

Brienne <glaring>: Or a forest fire that ignited coal seams which were threaded throughout the continent, and the flames were released after an earthquake.

Jaime <grinning>: A fire started by the Kingslayer and—

Brienne: For the gods’ sakes, Jaime!

<Jaime, Nimble Dick, and the audience laugh>

Nimble Dick: This may be a good time to take a break! When we return, we’ll ask our guests to tell us more about Winterfell—and about the Kingslayer, the Beauty, the Evenstar, and the Golden Hand. Stay with us!

*/*/*/*/*


End file.
